Dreaming of a Better Future
by Fluffy Parrots
Summary: Sometimes Fate doesn't write a happy ending. Sometimes one has to write their own, starting at the beginning. Time-Travel. Tom Riddle/Harry. Past Draco/Harry
1. Prologue

_No… no, no, no…_

Harry backed up until he hit the tree behind him, eyes refusing to leave Draco's cold body.

Laughter screeched and hollered throughout the Death Eater ranks, Voldemort at the head of them all, gloating above the broken body.

 _No..._

The Elder Wand came into his blurry vision. Could it kill him?

Harry looked over at Hagrid, the half-giant's face soaked with blood, and then at the mangled remains of Snape's body.

 _No._

His gaze drifted back to the Elder Wand.

Did it matter?

The Boy Who Lived heard a final shriek of laughter and, just as green light arched from the wand, Harry spun the Time Turner as hard as he could.

* * *

Time and Fate had always gotten on well. They were intertwined with the fabric of the Universe, powers that were strongest when together. As Fate laid out the destinies of all souls, Time pulled them along over all the bumps and dips in the road.

But every now and then there was a slip-up.

The biggest one of these slips, Time would argue, was the invention of the Time-Turner. It was an unnatural sort of magic, Time claimed, a feeble attempt at a mastery of a power no living thing should have any control over.

Fate had promptly responded that this was actually a _fascinating_ development and immediately began scrawling out complicated lifelines for its favorite playthings. Besides, Fate argued, it was _Hogwarts_ this was happening at. No place on that measly planet, or really in that galaxy, was so close to the powers.

They didn't talk for, well, quite some time and Death eventually had to go chat with Time and inform it that yes, while giving the humans on Earth the power to master them wasn't exactly fun, there was no arguing with Fate and everything generally had the odd habit of working itself out. Emphasis on generally.

Besides, Death had said, these humans already had unnatural powers flowing through them as it was. There was no way to stop them.

So Time had accepted the Time-Turner, albeit grudgingly, and couldn't help its sigh of relief when they were immediately locked away and rarely used. Time could handle the occasional hours being flipped, and tuck away the extra threads without much problem.

Of course, that was before Harry Potter happened.

Time had considered killing the insolent weakling the second he started his flight away from his era, as it had done to so many who dare spin back more than a handful of hours, but Death outright refused to pull the broken soul into its realm. Fate assured them both that it would turn out alright and started hurriedly searching for its plans for the boy.

Time refused to listen and instead set about stripping the Wizard of any possessions that would make this hell even harder to manage and tried to mend where the universal fabric started to unravel. Death looked over its shoulder and sighed at the mangled mass of threads before simply severing them, and Time watched in horror as two lines formed at the point where Harry Potter landed.

This was a mess far beyond any human comprehension, however, and had no direct bearing on the now naked man slumped in the just outside of Hogwarts' Forbidden Forest August 24th, 1943.


	2. Chapter 1 - Veritaserum

"Are you ready?"

 _No_ , Harry thought. _No I'm not. Nor will I ever be._

"I have to be, don't I?" he said, forcing a smile. Hermione looked back at him with pity.

"I wish it didn't have to be like this."

"That's what everyone wishes."

"How's Draco handling it?"

Harry snorted. "How would Ron handle it if _you_ were sent to kill Voldemort? He won't leave my side. Barely can get him off to use the loo. The only reason he's not here now is I forced that damned sleeping draught down his throat lest he collapse from exhaustion." _Not that I mind._

Hermione sighed, smiling slightly. "You ended up being really good for him, I think."

"Same the other way around. I'm not sure where I'd be right now without him."

"He loves you."

"I know. I love him too."

* * *

Professor Dumbledore felt his thoughts wander as he continued on with his regular evening stroll of the Hogwarts grounds. School would be in session a week and a day from now, and he still hadn't finished redecorating his classroom. Professor Merrythought was also going to be missing the first week and a half of school and the headmaster still had not found a substitute to take her place for that time.

He frowned, almost tripping as his feet stumbled into something. A second glance had him reeling back in shock, hand flying to his wand.

The body of a teenager lay in a heap before him, bare and cold. Not dead though, Albus noted as he knelt and felt for a pulse. Not dead.

He had a wand gripped tightly in his hand, a mangled lump of gold and sand in the other, messy black hair and a large lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Albus stared.

Hogwarts was a strange place, indeed.

He shed his outer robes and tucked the boy into them before carrying him up to the Infirmary. He could ensure the boy was tended to before summoning Dippet, and then everything could be talked over. Perhaps the boy would start an education at Hogwarts; he was no doubt a wizard, a powerful one from the feeling of his magic, and he was still possibly young enough to be a sixth or seventh year. Yes, that would work...

* * *

Harry Potter woke up with a decidedly unheroic shriek as cold water flooded over him. He bolted upright and pulled his arms around him, teeth chattering, before looking up.

The kind eyes of Dumbledore stared back down at him, worried.

"Oh _shit_ ," Harry swore before any other word could escape him. He studied the man before him, whose frown did nothing but deepen.

Yup, he was dead.

Dead, dead, dead.

Panic immediately started to pick at his brain, but Harry forced it back. After all, Dumbledore was here. He could explain what was happening.

"Uh, sorry Professor," he amended quickly. "I just… How did it happen?"

Dumbledore blinked and glanced to the left. Harry followed his movement and saw a rather frail looking man in plainly colored robes next to him. Must be one of Dumbledore's old friends.

"How did what happen?" Dumbledore asked.

"My, uh, you know… Death, Professor Dumbledore. How did I die?" Harry's mind reeled back, trying to see what had happened. There was Draco, yes… he couldn't dwell on that loss now, and then the laughter, and then… "Did Voldemort's curse land?"

At this point the other man cleared his throat and caught his attention.

"You know Dumbledore," he stated, eyebrows raised. "Albus, who is this?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," Dumbledore responded. Harry blanched.

"I-but-Dumbledore, it's me. Harry Potter? You-you were-Voldemort-Draco-" he stammered out a few more words before his headmaster rested his hand on Harry's shoulder, gently pushing him back into a laying position.

"Harry," Dumbledore stated, checking the boys face for confirmation. Harry nodded, eyes wide. "We have never met before, and I'm fairly certain you are not dead."

Harry stared, hand clenching. "Sir," he said carefully, trying to force his thoughts together. They refused to. He fell silent, instead staring at his empty hands. Not dead.

Not dead.

Oh.

 _Oh._

Harry looked up at Dumbledore once more, realization settling into the pit of his stomach.

"Oh," he stated out loud.

"Oh _what_ ," the man next to Dumbledore said.

Harry didn't respond for a while. What did he say? What was he _supposed_ to say? _Oh, sorry, I just happened to fail in my war against the Dark Lord some years into the future and he killed my best friends, boyfriend, and family and was about to kill me so I just went back in time. Guess I'll be hanging around here for a while then._

He snorted.

Dumbledore and the other man stared.

"What year is it?" Harry asked after a moment.

"Nineteen forty-three."

"Nineteen forty- _oh shit_." Dumbledore's companion raised an eyebrow.

"Watch your language," he said sharply. "What year did you think it was?"

Harry frowned and considered how honest he should be about the situation. Outright lies never worked, but… Remember Hermione's speech on the dangers of time travel all the way back in third year, it would probably be best to not spill everything. He decided to just ignore the question for now. "What year is Tom Riddle at school?"

He heard Dumbledore suck in a breath and mentally nodded. Dumbledore had not lied about his disdain towards the boy. The other man, however, scowled.

"Do tell me, _Harry_ , why I would freely hand out personal information about a student to some half-grown child who appeared naked on our grounds?"

Harry fought the urge to scowl back. It was probably best to stay on everyone's good side. "Sorry sir." He definitely did not sound it. "It's just… It's very important. Trust me."

"I can't say I do."

"Who are you?"

"Armando Dippet, Headmaster of Hogwarts." Harry wasn't too surprised. He definitely resembled one of the portraits in the office, come to think of it. "Now, it is _us_ who should be doing the questioning here I believe. So, if you would be so kind, who are you and how did you get here?"

"Harry James Potter. I can't say I know for sure, but from what I remember I used a Time-Turner."

Dippet stared at him for some time before turning to Dumbledore. "Go get some Veritaserum from Horace. I will not put up with this nonsense."

Harry blanched. "Uh, sir-"

"Now," Dippet clarified, and Dumbledore left the room.

Harry felt bile rising up in the back of his throat and he pulled his knees to his chest. The room he was in looked quite a bit like the Infirmary, except the beds were wooden and with red covers instead of white with a rather ugly green and purple carpet on the floor.

"Sir," he started once more. Dippet ignored him, instead standing and pacing.

The hellish silence ended quickly, however, as Dumbledore quickly returned with a small vial of the serum. Dippet wasted no time in wrenching Harry's mouth open and pouring it in. Harry's mouth and nose were plugged before he could spit it out.

He felt himself weaken and his mind grew fuzzy as the potion quickly worked its way through him. Dippet smiled somewhere behind a cloud of haze.

"What is your name?"

"Harry James Potter." His mouth spoke without his permission. This was not going to go well. Not at all.

"And when is your birthday?"

"July 31st, 1980."

Dippet and Dumbledore exchanged a look.

"Did someone try to kill you?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Lord Voldemort. Also, Peter Pettigrew, though indirectly. Also, Lucius Malfoy, though indirectly. Also, Albus Dumbledore. Also-"

"Stop. Why did Albus try to kill you?"

"He did not mean to kill me." God, god, _god._

"But you just said that he tried to kill you."

"He wanted me to do something that would result in my death. He knew I would die. It was not his intention." As horrible as the situation was, it did give him a slight satisfaction to see Dumbledore look abashed. He also faintly noticed a quill and parchment automatically recording the entire conversation.

"Oh. What did he want you to do?"

"Fulfill the prophecy. Kill Lord Voldemort. Destroy Voldemort's horcruxes. Save Hogwarts. Have a good education. Love. Inspire friends. Live up to my family's name. Understand Severus Snape. Understand my father. Assist him. T-"

"Stop. Who is Lord Voldemort?"

This was not going to end well. "The Dark Lord. Tom Marvolo Riddle. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

All was silent save the scratching of the quill. Harry wondered when the serum would wear off.

"How did you get here?" Ah, subject change.

"I do not know for certain."

"What do you remember?"

"I was in the forest and had the Resurrection Stone. I saw my parents and Sirius Black. I continued into the forest where Voldemort was waiting. He had Draco. He had already killed Severus Snape. He killed Draco. Hogwarts was under attack and Hogwarts was losing. He came closer. I spun the Time Turner and I woke up here."

"And where did you get the Time-Turner?"

"Albus Dumbledore gave it to me in his office."

"When?"

"January. Nineteen ninety-six."

"Why?"

"He was worried. Something was not following his plan. He thought I would need it."

"Who is Draco?"

That was a question Harry did not want to answer for an entirely different set of reasons.

"The Malfoy Heir. Ex-Death Eater. My boyfriend. My former rival. A hero. Second in his class. Seventh-year Slytherin." He couldn't be sure, but something in Dumbledore's expression seemed to soften at the mention of boyfriend.

"Do you wish harm upon either of us?"

Well. That was a change.

"I do not think so."

"What year did you come here from?"

"Nineteen ninety-eight."

"And Voldemort… Tom, he is a Dark Lord at this point?"

"Yes."

"Why were you chosen to kill him?"

"There was a prophecy. He chose me."

"Elaborate."

"Sybill Trelawney saw a prophecy. It concerned Voldemort. It concerned a boy born at the end of July. Two boys were born at the end of July. Voldemort marked me as his equal."

"How did he mark you as his equal?"

"He cast the killing curse on me when I was one year old."

Silence.

"How did you survive?"

"My mother's love."

More silence. Harry hoped it would last until the serum wore off.

"Who _are_ you?" Dippet wondered out loud. It was most likely rhetorical, but the serum forced him to answer.

"Harry James Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. Master of Death. Triwizard Champion. Gryffindor Seeker. Gryffindor Quidditch Captain. Leader of Dumbledore's Army. Son of James Potter. Son of Lily-"

"S-stop. Stop." The two professors looked thoroughly shaken.

"Tom Riddle." It was Dumbledore speaking this time. "He becomes a Dark Lord?" Harry would've rolled his eyes if he could They already asked that.

"Yes."

"How? Why?"

"He creates Horcruxes. He kills my parents. He kills his family. He gathers a following. He studies the Dark Arts. He becomes powerful. He is killed. He is resurrected. His following returns." Harry honestly wasn't exactly sure what he would say about this without the truth serum. "He hates Muggles. He hates everything."

"And… and you're back in time with him now. What are you going to do?"

"I do not know. Stop him."

"How?"

"I do not know."

"Are you going to kill him?"

"If I have no other choice."

The haze started to clear. Thank Merlin.

"Why?"

"I would fall. I would become no better than him."

Harry felt his cheeks heat up and the haze drifted away. He rubbed his eyes and glared as hard as he could at the two of them.

"Any other questions?" he snapped. Neither answered. Dippet sat on the bed next to him and placed his head in his hands. "What? Not what you expected?" Harry leapt to his feet and started to storm out before Dumbledore grabbed him.

"Stop. We need to discuss this more?"

"Discuss _what_ more?" Harry demanded. "My showing up here? Sorry, I wasn't exactly _planning_ on popping 54 years into the past!"

Dumbledore's face fell. "No," he stated quietly. "What are you going to do now that you're here?"

Harry sighed. "Hell if I know. What year is Tom Riddle going to be in?"

"Sixth."

Harry scowled. The first Horcrux had already been made.

"I don't know. I can't exactly leave Hogwarts, and if he's here, I need to do _something._ "

"How old are you? Can you take your seventh year at Hogwarts?" Dippet was a bit kinder now.

"I'd rather not. Too many questions as to why I wasn't here before," Harry said stiffly. "I'm seventeen. Is there any kind of job I can take? Anywhere I can just live? There's not much I can really… I have nowhere else to go."

"We need a week substitute for Merrythought," Dumbledore said immediately. Dippet scowled.

"Nonsense. He's too young," the headmaster stated.

"Wise beyond his years from the look of it. It would only be a week and a half. He could be introduced to Tom," Dumbledore argued. "Come. Harry, how good are you at Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"The best in my year," Harry stated stiffly. "I was kind of, you know, _sent to war against the dark arts._ " He could help the bitterness in his voice, even if this Dumbledore had nothing to do with his future mission.

"And could you manage kids your own age for a week and a half?" Dumbledore continued.

"Who the hell do you think trained everyone in the army?" Harry demanded.

"Watch your language or I won't even consider it," Dippet snapped. "I will need to discuss this with Albus and interview you later for it. For now, rest. If I discover you have left the Infirmary…" his voice trailed off threateningly.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry muttered, slumping onto the bed. "I'm going to sleep if that's alright with you."


	3. Chapter 2 - A Silver Dragon

Harry's mouth was dry as Draco hauled him down the stairs. He couldn't focus on anything, couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't feel.

Dumbledore was dead.

Dumbledore was dead, and Snape killed him.

He was just beginning to trust the slimy bastard and Snape had _killed_ him.

He-he had known that Draco was supposed to, that Voldemort was going to have Dumbledore dead by the end of the year, but…

Snape killed him.

Snape.

* * *

Tom Riddle impatiently stared at the Sorting Hat as it did its yearly run of students. He didn't care much for the beginning of the year ceremonies, but the consequences of his absence outweighed escaping the bore-fest.

So he sat still as the hat rattled off name after name, house after house. His eyes swept over the staff table, and was pleased to note there were no changes…

Ah. But there was one. Professor Merrythought was absent, and in her place sat a boy, no older than some of the seventh years, with the wildest black hair Tom had ever seen. He was too far away for Tom to make out any defining features, but he looked small and thin between Kettleburn and Dumbledore. Curious.

Dippet walked to the front once the final name was called and the cheering settled down at once, a smile splitting the normally strict man's face.

"I welcome each and every one of you to our school," he beamed. "Now-beginning of the year announcements. The forest is strictly off-limits to all students, and no magic is allowed in the corridors between classes. Any magical items designed to cause distractions inside class or passing periods are strictly prohibited. Mr. Pringle has my explicit permission to administer five lashes for any student infracting on these rules." Tom Riddle noticed the new professor's face pale dramatically.

"Now, Professor Merrythought will be gone these next 2 weeks as she has family business to take care of elsewhere. In the meantime, Professor Potter will be taking her place. I expect you will treat him with utmost respect while he is here. Do not cross him." The boy-Potter-rose, barely two inches taller than Dumbledore seated next to him. Small and scrawny indeed. Tom absently wondered why he was chosen as murmurs and polite claps echoed throughout the hall.

"Now, until Merrythought returns, I will be the effective head of Ravenclaw. And with that-let us begin the year!"

Cheers erupted as food appeared on the tables. Tom didn't hesitate to stack his plate high and dig in-the orphanage food was downright disgusting and Hogwarts feasts were always, _always_ heaven.

It was over soon, and he flooded out the halls with everyone else. Abraxas Malfoy caught up with him quickly, and Tom found himself trapped in a conversation about the pureblood's summer. Chills ran through him moments later, however, and Tom glanced over his shoulder. Professor Potter was staring straight at him, green eyes boring into his own brown ones. Avada kedavra green eyes, from the looks of it. Odd.

* * *

The next morning had Tom in the second row, fourth seat of Potter's Defense class. Abraxas was next to him, lazily twirling his wand with his resident sneer on his face. The teacher wasn't here yet, but the room was full nonetheless. Incessant chatter carried on for quite a while until the bell rang and the doors flew open. The Professor strode down the aisle between the rows of desks, rage etched into every corner of his face, robes billowing out behind him.

The doors slammed shut as he reached the front of the room and everyone stared in dead silence. Potter glared back for a moment before sighing, his face relaxing.

"Okay. Okay. So," he started, gaze sweeping over the class, "I'm Professor Potter. I'm filling in for Professor Merrythought for a while, but unfortunately she left no lesson plans behind, so I'm just going to run through a list of defensive charms that probably aren't covered in the curriculum and class'll be kinda chill the next couple weeks. Capisce?"

Everyone stared at him blankly and the professor's face reddened. Tom blinked. Was this man okay?

"I… okay, capisce. Now. First things first. Attendance." He conjured the list of students out of seemingly nowhere and ran through it quickly. No absences. _Of course_ , Tom thought, _nobody would dare miss out on such a strange professor._

"Good, good. So, let's start basic. Who knows what dementors are?"

For all his oddness, he sure was confident. Tom was among a handful of students who raised their hands. Potter glanced at all of them, eyes widening when he spotted Tom, before swallowing and calling on Edward Longbottom.

"Robed creatures, sir. They feed on the happiness of others and can suck out their souls. The Ministry wants to use them to guard Azkaban."

Potter was nodding until that last bit, when something briefly flashed across his face. He recovered without a pause, though. "Correct. Five points to…" he glanced at the boy, "Gryffindor? Yes?" Edward nodded. "And who can tell me the best defense against a dementor?"

Tom raised his hand again, the only one this time, and Potter seemed to almost hesitate before calling on him.

"The Patronus Charm, Professor."

Potter nodded, eyes not quite leaving him. "Yes. Five points to Slytherin. The Patronus Charm. Has that been covered in this class yet?"

"Professor Merrythought demonstrated it to us during our first year, but never showed us how. Said it wasn't generally learned unless you became an Auror," Walburga called out from the back. Potter grinned slightly.

"Glad I'll be able to teach you something, then. The Patronus Charm is generally regarded as a more complex form of magic, and requires diligence and concentration. Once mastered it can do more than send away dementors. It can carry messages, light paths, and repel some creatures wishing you harm. Your Patronus is an animal that reflects certain aspects of yourself, and can change after various life events or changes in emotion. Couples often find their Patronus has changed after marriage.

"To cast it, you need to find the happiest thought you can find and pour your heart into it. The incantation is 'Expecto Patronum.' It usually takes a bit of practice; I don't expect anyone will get it on their first try."

And with that, he cast a large, silvery young dragon, which charged out of his wand before slinking over to the Professor's side. Tom tried not to stare; the dragon was far more clearer than Merrythought's owl had been, and she was supposed to be _known_ for her strong Patronus.

Potter himself looked a bit caught off guard by his, as if it was something he now wasn't sure quite what to do with. A small frown adorned his face and he almost looked longing for a moment before carrying on.

"Patronuses are almost entirely docile; they exist to protect and to love. Now, stand."

Everyone, clearly impressed at this point, did not hesitate to obey. Potter sent all the desks to the walls in neat stacks without a word.

"We don't have any dementors to practice on, fortunately," Tom blinked. Fortunately? "but that can make things a little harder for some. I think we'll manage just fine though. Please form a line at the back of the classroom and focus on the happiest memory you have."

Tom thought hard as he walked back. Happiest memory…

He supposed there was that time when he lured the other children into the cave, or when he convinced a snake to go after Arnold Smitting. He frowned. Neither of those were really outstanding, though.

And, regardless of what Potter said, he fully intended to get this charm right on his first try.

"On the count of three we'll cast, alright?" Tom blanched. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts… "One. Two. Three!"

" _Expecto Patronum!_ " Twenty voices cried out in unison, though nothing more happened than a few silvery wisps spat out of wands.

Potter nodded as if it was what he expected. "Yes. Not an easy charm. Most Death E-I mean, most dark wizards are never able to master it. It requires too much light. Too much love." The professor looked directly at Tom as he said this, and rubbed his eyes before hurriedly carrying on. "I'm certain you'll all get at least some form by the end of the week though. If you all lose interest, we can do something else in a couple days. Now. Happy thoughts. Let's try again."

The class carried on like that until the bell rang, with Edward Longbottom making the most progress in sending out what looked like a faint blob that croaked out of existence. Professor Potter did not hide his delight as he hastily awarded Gryffindor another ten points.

Tom scowled, something twisting his stomach as he gathered his books and left the room.

* * *

Harry did his best not to throw up as he returned the desks and chairs to their normal position, stealing glances at his still-present Patronus at the front of the room.

He had called it before when it was in this form, yes, but still, every time he did he still expected the ever-familiar stag. Some part of him ached for his father's image, but…

Draco.

He fiercely rubbed his eyes, banishing his rapidly darkening thoughts as he went up to his desk. Edward Longbottom. Neville's-what, grandfather? Great-grandfather? Great-uncle? Dear god. They looked so alike.

And the kid next to Tom. Spitting image of Lucius, though mercifully different from Draco.

Of course, Tom struggled the most with the Patronus. Harry swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He wasn't fully prepared to see baby Voldemort staring him down this morning. He had no clue what to do with him, really. How was he supposed to stop Tom from becoming Voldemort? How do you stop someone evil from, well, being evil?

Tom had been clearly frustrated at his lack of a Patronus, and Harry wasn't quite sure whether it was because of his horrid nature, lack of happy memories or both. He also wasn't sure whether he should help the boy or not.

Harry sat on the floor and leaned against his Patronus, ignoring the ache in his heart. He'd figure it out eventually. For now, he had another four classes to get through.

He had this period open, though, and he looked over his outlines for the next few classes. He had chosen spells that, as far as he knew, wouldn't be brought up in the curriculum but still could be useful. Nothing that could truly hurt anyone, though.

He also recalled the awful morning before class; Dippet had pulled him aside after breakfast and informed him that he was going to contact the Ministry later that day and that he'd have to start getting documented on his situation immediately.

Harry had responded that he had less than no trust in the Ministry and he'd rather remain undocumented.

Dippet threatened to remove him from Hogwarts.

Harry had stated that he'd like to see him try.

Then the bell rang.

It wasn't as if he _wanted_ to antagonize Dippet. He seemed to be an effective headmaster, and probably deserved more respect than Harry offered.

But… The Ministry was a no. A definite no.

Harry felt his dragon nuzzle him and he felt another slight pang in his chest. He looked over his shoulder to inspect it further. He hadn't bothered to check exactly what kind of dragon it was.

He ran his hands over its spiny back and studied its snout. A Norwegian Ridgeback.

Harry blinked.

Perhaps… he had to pay someone a visit.


	4. Chapter 3 - Some Semblance of Happiness

"Harry."

The raven-haired boy didn't stir, and Draco scowled, prodding him gently with his finger.

"Harry. Wake up."

"Mmm," was all the response he got as his boyfriend rolled over.

" _Harry,_ come on! It's a Hogsmeade weekend," Draco whispered. "Here. I'll buy you a pack of Chocolate Frogs if you get up now."

"Mmmm." Harry's eyes slowly opened, and Draco couldn't help his grin as green eyes met silver. "Chocolate Frogs?" Harry murmured groggily.

"Yes, Potter, Chocolate Frogs. Now get your sorry arse out of bed before I leave without you."

Harry snorted as he sat up. "Yeah right. As if you'd go anywhere without me," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. His hand automatically went to his nightstand in search of his glasses, but they weren't there. Harry immediately turned to Draco. "Where are they?" he deadpanned.

Draco snickered and ran out the door, and Harry angrily jumped up and darted after him.

"Draco!" he whined, "I _need_ those!"

"But they're so uglyyy," Draco whined back, not caring as he ran through the Gryffindor common room. Harry still wasn't quite sure how he always got the passwords, and Draco wasn't sharing. "You look much better without them. Trust me."

The blond suddenly stopped and Harry crashed into him.

"Yeah well you look like a giant, thieving fuzz without them," Harry snapped, finally managing to steal his glasses back.

"A giant, _attractive_ thieving fuzz," Draco corrected, slipping his hands in Harry's.

His boyfriend rolled his eyes but smiled.

"A giant, _attractive_ thieving fuzz," he agreed.

* * *

Professor Potter was the talk of the school. Nobody had the foggiest clue where he had come from, why Dippet had accepted someone so _young_ , exactly how old he was anyways, or where any of his odd mannerisms had come from. He was clearly English, and knew far more than anyone under the age of forty, possibly fifty, should know. He showed kindness to all of the students he'd had so far, and had reprimanded absolutely nobody for bad behavior. Not that anyone dared misbehave, anyways.

Tom quietly wondered how long that would last. Today he had the power of being unexpected; everyone listened as they wanted to gather at least some shred of information on the scrawny teacher. The mystic would fade fast.

Of course, by then Merrythought might have returned.

"What do you think, Tom?" Orion interrupted his thoughts. The third year idolized him, constantly buggering Tom when he wanted it least. He forced back a grimace.

"Think about what?"

"D'ya think Potter went to Beauxbaton?"

"Don't be ridiculous. He's clearly English.," Tom rolled his eyes and walked away without another word. Beauxbaton his arse.

But… where would he have gone, then? Professor Potter, by all reasoning, would've been in Hogwarts.

He headed to the library as lunch began, initially planning on researching Horcruxes further. He had made one, he was fairly sure, but diaries weren't the sturdiest of items. He got sick at the idea he had wasted his one and only split soul piece on something so flimsy.

However, as he wandered among the shelves, he found himself pulling out a book on Patronus charms instead.

It was important to get on the substitute's good side, Tom reasoned.

* * *

Wednesday found Tom back in Defense Against the Dark Arts, where Potter cheerfully started the class off with open questions.

"What do you think of when you cast _your_ Patronus?" Amy Prewett asked, twirling her hair around her finger and staring up through her lashes. Tom mentally sneered. The young professor's looks hadn't gone unnoticed by the school, either.

Potter seemed completely oblivious to the flirtatious undertones though and answered easily. "There's a lot of things I look back on. When I first started learning to cast them, I thought of the first time I flew on a broom or when I got my letter accepting me at Hogwarts." The second sentence seemed to slip out without his permission and he blinked, quickly backtracking. "I mean, that is, uh… Mainly broom flying, actually. That was it. Bro-"

"You went to Hogwarts?" Abraxas demanded, eyebrows arching. "How old are you?"

Potter stiffly ignored him. "Okay. Line up in the back again. I'll walk down the line. Let me know if you're having trouble."

It was too late; the class was in slight uproar, and it was only when Potter sent off _Avio_ with a loud crack did it fall quiet. His eyes portrayed nothing but stony impatience.

"Line up. Now."

The class immediately obeyed, still muttering as he sent the desks to the walls once more.

"Now, quick refresher," his demeanor immediately calmed as if the slip-up never happened. "Happy thoughts. Expecto Patronum. _Concentrate._ "

And, true to his words, he checked up on each student, fixing their wand motion, pronunciation, suggesting happy memories, performing brief demonstrations. Tom sharply inhaled once Potter reached him.

He took the opportunity to examine the man now that he stood so close; his hair was definitely a lost cause, thick and black and shooting up in every possible direction, and his thick-rimmed glasses were borderline ridiculous. He was a good three inches shorter than Tom, and a bit on the scrawny side. A jagged scar cut across his forehead, dipping slightly onto the bridge of his nose, and his eyes uncannily matched that perfect avada kedavra green.

He was cute, in a way, even if he looked slightly scared standing in front of Tom.

Tom frowned, thinking back to the earlier stares. What could this man have against him?

"Okay, Tom," Potter said, voice not portraying an ounce of the uncertainty written over his face, "let's see what you have."

Tom bit back embarrassment as he attempted the spell. Potter seemed rather unsurprised as nothing happened.

"What are you thinking of?" he demanded simply.

"A vacation to a seaside cave," Tom answered. Potter paled, eyes widening slightly in horror. He coughed. Tom wondered what Potter could possibly find intimidating about a cave. It's not like he was there.

"I… Um, okay. Not exactly the most… _cheerful_ moment you have, is it?" he questioned. Tom cocked an eyebrow. "I mean, maybe… What about when you learned you were a wizard? That day?"

"How would you know I didn't always know?" Tom questioned quietly. Potter flushed, red rapidly returning to his cheeks.

"Teachers talk."

"Dumbledore told you?"

"Doesn't matter. Is that a happy memory for you?"

Tom thought on it for a moment. "I suppose."

Potter sighed, running his hand through his hair. Tom studied the scar during the split second it was visible before the fringe fell back over it.

"You can't _suppose_ , Riddle. It has to be a moment that you, without a doubt, were happy. Is there anything that stands out? Any memory of love, kindness… Anything?"

To Tom's surprise, he didn't immediately retort with a flat no.

"I'll think on it," he said instead. Potter nodded.

"Do you have any other questions? Your form looks good," he said lightly.

"What's your first name?" Where did that come from?

Potter stared blankly. "Harry. You're the third person to ask so far-why does it matter?"

The professor moved on before Tom could reply.

And, to his frustration, Edward Longbottom's Patronus had an almost defined shape today. A toad, from the looks of it.

Professor Potter-no, Harry was elated.

Tom scowled.

* * *

Harry stared at the hut before him, shoulders square.

He had no clue what to expect from this visit, but hopefully there would be tea and talking. He wasn't exactly sure how he'd explain his presence, but…

He need to see him. See the one man who had, without any ulterior motive, saved and guided Harry throughout the years.

Of course, he would still be a boy now, Harry reminded himself. He'd be younger than Harry was now.

He took a deep breath before knocking. Hagrid answered moments later, smaller than Harry remembered but still easily half again the size of any adult.

"Professor!" Hagrid bellowed cheerfully. "Yer the new one, righ'? Steppin' in for Merrythought. Good o' ya. Come in, come in."

Something inside Harry relaxed as he beamed at his future friend.

"Thanks, Hagrid. I… I heard you were the gamekeeper, and seeing as I'll be here for quite a while, I figured it best I stop by." There. That was a good enough excuse, right?

"Good o' ya. I 'preciate the company. Not many people stop aroun' much an' it gets lonely wiv just Aragog," Hagrid said, leading Harry inside.

The hut looked almost exactly the same as Harry remembered; maybe a little less worn in some places, and none of the paint chipped, but Hagrid never changed much, and neither did his cabin.

"Aragog?" Harry asked, mind spinning back to his encounter with the Acromantula. "Who's that?"

"Oh, 'e jus be my Acromantula. Friendly, tho'. Got me expelled, he right did, Tom blamin' the Chamber o' Secrets openin' on me n' him. 'e don't spend much time in my house anymore now tha' 'e's so big, but 'e visits a lot. Gonna be another couple years afore he starts his own nest," Hagrid said. "Want some tea?"

Harry accepted the offered cup and eventually lost himself in simple conversation with Hagrid.

It hurt a bit, knowing that the half-giant wouldn't know of their future, their past, of all he would and did do for Harry, but it was nice, in a way, knowing that he was still quite the same person.

* * *

Tom all but growled as he watched Harry walk into Hagrid's little hut. He has spent all of his Saturday morning scrounging for information on the man to come up with _nothing_ , spent his lunch trying to cast a Merlin-damned Patronus with somehow even fewer results, and now the professor had decided to spend his time speaking with some filthy half-breed who _loathed_ him.

Harry was a complete mystery, and Tom never liked mysteries.

He even approached Slughorn about the subject, and the potions teacher had laughed heartily, saying he wished he had Harry as a student. He was quite a strong wizard, that one, and would probably be great at potions. Pity he'd ended up a teacher, Slughorn could've set him up as an Auror. Ah, well, he'd be fine here. Hogwarts was a fine school.

Yes, Slughorn was as useless as usual. Tom scowled, sitting on the lawn against a tree, watching the house. Not only did Harry lack connections to absolutely anything, but he also seemed to take after Dumbledore in having almost no fondness for Tom. Sure, with Harry, something else was definitely off between them as well, but someone disliking Tom so fast when he'd let _nothing_ slip was just unnatural.

Maybe it _was_ Dumbledore, though. He had seen him and Harry talking together on a handful of occasions, muttering among themselves, Dumbledore's brow furrowed as if Harry baffled him just as much as he did the rest of the school. Dumbledore was most likely the reason Harry treated him as he did. It was the only explanation.

Which is why Tom needed a Patronus. Get Potter's attention on him, get Potter associating him with good things.

Tom ran his fingers through the grass. Why did he even care, though? Potter would be gone next week anyways and it'd be back to Merrythought. Potter would disappear back into the nothing he came from. He glanced up at the hut.

Disappear, a mystery unsolved.

Tom wasn't going to let that happen.

* * *

Harry considered the pros and cons of _Impedimenta_ as he spotted Tom run to catch up with him as he made his way from Hagrid's hut. He still had no clue what to do with him, terrified that any move to help Riddle would enable him to become a stronger Voldemort rather than prevent one and that any move to impede him would alight his hate and guarantee the Dark Lord down the road.

In the end, he did nothing to prevent Tom from walking by his side, and made an effort to neither speed up nor slow down. Nothing to upset the sixth year Slytherin.

"Professor," Tom stated formally.

"Riddle," Harry provided. He still wasn't always sure how to address his students; he was less than a year older than many of them, Tom included.

"What are you doing out on the grounds?" Tom asked.

"Oh, ah, just going for a walk," Harry said. "Yourself?"

"Studying. The tree over there's nice and shady," he said, nodding his head back to his previous place of rest. Harry glanced back at it, familiarity gnawing a bit at his insides. The tree was smaller than it was during his time. Still large, still ancient, but smaller nonetheless.

"That's nice," Harry said. Tom nodded awkwardly next to him.

"I was wondering, Professor, if there's any other way to cast a Patronus?" he said after a moment. "Without a happy memory?"

Harry paused for a moment, and Tom stopped right with him. It irked him some that Tom towered over him so much. Honestly, Harry was used to being a bit smaller, but it was flat-out stupid that his future nemesis got to have an edge on him even before he became what he was.

"Well, Tom," Harry said carefully, resuming the walk, "Patronuses are based off of happy memories. They embody something that matters to you and reflects on the light aspects of who you are. You can't cast happiness without, you know, happiness."

Tom frowned. "Ah. I feared so. Do Patronuses have any connection to the soul?"

Harry shrugged at the question, carefully schooling his reaction. He didn't think it would be good for Tom to know that Harry knew about his horcruxes. "I'm not quite sure. A friend of mine liked to think that the soul is where we keep our joy, and I like to think she's right. So, in that case, I suppose they would be. Why do you ask?"

"Simply curious, Professor. Do you know why your Patronus is a dragon?"

"Yes." Harry answered curtly.

Tom smirked a little. "Care to elaborate?"

Harry casually shrugged again, glancing over at Tom. He was using his silkier voice, the one Harry had remembered from some of Dumbledore's memories. The one he used when he was trying to charm people over, whether it be Hepzibah with her trinkets or Slughorn with his Horcruxes.

Harry found it a bit humorous that Tom considered him someone worth charming.

"No, not really," Harry said simply. Then, taking a risk, he stated, "It used to be a stag."

Tom blinked. "Oh, interesting. You said before that Patronuses can change after life events?"

"Yes," Harry answered, mind drifting back to Draco. This man would one day kill Draco, Harry realized quietly. He would kill his love. "I had a lot of these… 'life events.' The one that finally changed it was when I fell in love."

Tom looked mildly uncomfortable for a second before his face shifted back to its normal small smiles and handsome calmness. Harry was too lost in thought to notice.

"Are you married, Professor?"

Harry blinked as they reached the castle. "No. Never got the chance."

And with that, he left a muddled Tom to go review his lesson plans once more.

* * *

Tom was ready to tear his hair out in frustration by next Monday. He still had yet to find _anything_ on the blasted professor and he would be _gone_ in two days and Merlin be damned Tom needed to know his story!

He was even tempted to ask Dumbledore about it. Yes, Tom would swallow his fear and wheedle information out of the Transfiguration Professor if it could give him any sort of hint to Harry's story.

However, he had Defense first, and one of his last chances to gather some information on Harry.

"So, I was going to give you guys an option today," Harry stated as he adjusted his glasses. Those stupid glasses, Tom seethed. Just as ridiculous and weird as the rest of the man. "Either we can keep trying Patronus Charms or we can try a couple more… fun, sort of jinxes." Tom mentally raged against the mischievous expression on Harry's face. "Class vote. Raise your hand for Patronus Charms now."

Longbottom and Tom were originally the only two to raise their hands, but Abraxas, Walburga and Quinn Crabbe quickly joined in to follow Tom. Harry examined the latter three, clearly unimpressed.

"Alright, so the rest of you want to learn jinxes?" he clarified. Murmurs of agreement quickly spread. "Okay. Let me just clarify-you are _not_ to use these with the intent to harm. Any magic can be twisted to harm, and while I show you these just for some fun before your regular teacher performs, I will _not hesitate_ to punish anyone I catch misusing these." Again, Harry looked at Tom as he finished this. Tom mentally shouted. What did he ever do to him?

"So. I'm going to need a volunteer," Harry said, face the mask of innocence. The entire class raised their hands and Harry barked out a laugh. "You realize you're going to be _jinxed_ , correct?" he asked. A couple hands dropped, still leaving the majority. Tom didn't volunteer, but scowled nonetheless as someone other than him was chosen. Lea Finnigan.

"This is the Laughing Jinx," Harry said, straightening. He looked at Lea. "Are you ready? For the purpose of the demonstration you can't shield yourself. I won't let it last long, alright?"

Lea nodded, a seductive smile touching her features.

Tom felt something tick in annoyance. Oh, Harry was already in love, he wanted to shout. Don't bother. Besides, it's not as if _you're_ worth it-

" _Rictumsempra!_ " Harry stated, wand flicking sharply. Lea immediately dissolved into a fit of raucous laughter, doubled over and clutching her sides, barely able to breathe. The class quickly followed suit, torn apart by giggles and smiles. " _Finite Incantatem,_ " Harry murmured, and Lea slowed down for a moment, still laughing on her own will. The professor smiled. Tom wanted to wretch.

"That's the basics of it. Lea, you can go sit down again. Pair up and practice for the next fifteen minutes. Then we'll move on."

* * *

Harry watched as everyone paired up. Tom went with the Malfoy, and the Riddle immediately jinxed his partner, cocking an eyebrow as his friend howled with laughter. Harry waited for Tom to end the jinx and let it be cast upon himself, but, as three minutes passed, that didn't seem to be the case.

Tom was also staring at him, Harry, quite a bit too, he noted.

And so Harry went through with the only possible solution to this. The second Tom looked away Harry jinxed him, ended the spell on his friend and slipped away.

Tom broke out in fits of giggles behind him, slowly growing in volume as Harry mentally increased the strength until Tom was outright guffawing. He couldn't help the smile that slipped onto his face.

Tom laughing sounded nothing like Voldemort laughing.

Still off, in a way. The teen was creepy.

But he was still fully alive this time, at the very least.


End file.
